


my world is filled with cheer (and you)

by startyourbenjens



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startyourbenjens/pseuds/startyourbenjens
Summary: Prompt: fp/alice where he’s a cheesy motherfucker bout to propose for christmasSoft FP/Alice Christmas Eve proposal. Rated T mostly for implications rather than any actual details.
Relationships: Alice Cooper & FP Jones II, Alice Cooper/FP Jones II
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	my world is filled with cheer (and you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [convenientmisfires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/gifts).



> A couple of notes:  
> -I haven't actually seen Riverdale after season two. BUT I do keep up to date from The Afictionados podcast which is honestly my preferred way to keep up with the show. No shade to the show! It's just very long seasons and the big draw for me is Snakeparents/Falice so for now, that's my favorite way to consume Riverdale is by proxy. You should check out their podcast if you aren't familiar with it.  
> -As such, I am fuzzy on some details but hopefully this is mostly canon compliant!

He’s forgotten how nice traditions can be, which may be due to the fact that he’s never been so stable in his life to really have them. He forgot about the joy of the simple gifts, the happiness of easy familiarity and things that are so second-nature you can slip right into the steps while you slip your hands around your girlfriend’s waist, touching your lips to her neck without missing a beat the entire time.

Maybe that last one is just him.

Alice is better at keeping or making traditions than him, always has been. She makes him fit into these holiday habits like he’s always been there helping her decorate the tree or grabbing the blanket when she curls up on the couch to watch Miracle on 34th Street for at least the third time in a week.

It was the insistence of Jughead and Jellybean that no Christmas tree should dare to cross their threshold until after Thanksgiving, a condition which Alice had begrudgingly accepted with the promise that it should go up immediately the next day. FP didn’t do anything special except to listen. He borrowed a couple of tools from Fred’s old stash, really borrowing them this time, not stealing, and cut one down himself, hauling it into the living room the following morning.

He intended to go out and get one from the local farm at first but he couldn’t find one that seemed right for her. None were full enough or green enough or had the look that would be perfect among her meticulously chosen decorations until suddenly it was, the best one waiting for him to cut it down and bring it home for her.

She kissed him big in front of the kids, arms around his neck and everything.

They tossed out the old fake tree that was stashed in the attic and Alice moved into a frenzy of Christmas decorating. He pretended not to notice when she would sneak behind him and move an ornament into a different place than where he had put it. He didn’t care and to tell the truth, he knew it would look better wherever she put it anyway.

So he put the star on the tree for her and he strung up the Christmas lights outside exactly how she directed him to and then he stood back at the curb, staring at their handiwork. He slipped his arm around her shoulders because he can’t seem to ever stop touching her now that he can. She relaxed into the way he kissed her cheek, melting into his side when he whispered in her ear, ‘ _Good job, baby._ ’

FP may not be the smartest guy around town, that’s a title he’s pretty sure Jughead holds and yes, he knows he is bias, but while he’s basking in the glory of making her happy, he’s also painfully aware that these little things are too easy to get this kind of reaction. This Pavlovian response to her wants, his need to fulfill what makes her happy is all too easy to achieve. He knows there are things they’ve talked about and things they haven’t yet, little pieces of their histories that they’ll have to cover eventually. Her happiness in the little things will be one of them.

Not on Christmas though. Not Christmas, Christmas Eve, New Year’s, or Valentine’s Day. They’ll have months of happy holidays for him to show her that he wants to do all these things for her, that he’s here and he’s listening.

 _Maybe more_ , he hopes.

FP picks up icing and some of his favorite candies from the store when she talks about how she hasn’t built a gingerbread house in years, not since the girls were little. Unfortunately, the candy he picked up apparently wasn’t suited for gingerbread décor but she opens up the cupboards and makes it work anyway. He kisses the sugary sweet confection from her lips and it takes three hours to finish the damned thing which Alice displays proudly much to the chagrin of the kids who stare at its lopsided windows and the crumbles of roof falling off onto the holiday plate beneath.

“Nice to see you helped, dad.” Jughead pats his back as they stare at it. It’s true, Alice would have probably made a better, more symmetrical structure had she done it on her own. He’s no slouch on his own but he just wanted to watch her pipe icing on the roof a little bit more so he kept swiping his finger in all her clean white lines.

Jellybean puts up a homemade sign on the plate the next day that reads “Southside” and FP has never felt more at home.

He doesn’t do the caroling but he also doesn’t complain about the Christmas music that starts before the Thanksgiving dishes have even been cleared. There’s a whole world of new music that he’s never heard before coming from the speakers and he’ll let it play all day to watch her bopping her head around the house, filled with holiday cheer.

It’s the best Christmas he’s ever had and it’s not even the big day yet.

And he wants to make it good for her too.

Alice is a better cook as a general rule but FP doesn’t make a bad breakfast. He’s arranged the schedule at the station so that he can be off today but he’ll pull a double tomorrow for Christmas. It’s not ideal but he’s trying to be responsible to everyone, including the people on his squad. Jellybean is out with Jug and the kids so it’s only them Christmas Eve morning which leaves Alice the opportunity to stroll downstairs in one of his flannel shirts.

 _Only_ his flannel shirt.

FP nearly burns the eggs but catches himself barely in time to spare breakfast and the smoke detector.

“I was gonna wear that today.” He slides the plate in front of her.

“Hm.” Alice shifts in her spot, the shirt riding high up her thighs. Her tattoo stares at him, teasing him on the taut muscles and smooth skin. He loves that spot and he loves that tattoo. Sometimes he can barely think straight when he remembers that she still has it, touching her just like he does.

She has to start talking again before he looks up and realizes she’s been throwing him that signature Alice smirk the whole time he was watching her, that smile that’s half mischief and all perfection. She casually shrugs, sipping on her fresh coffee. “Seems like a personal problem.”

His shirt is warm and it smells like her when they step out together later. With no shortage of thorough convincing, Alice finally trades his shirt for a simple green sweater. A dark shade though and they almost match with the deep green and blue lined pattern of his flannel. The serpent king and queen even on Christmas Eve.

He slips the ring into the pocket of his serpents jacket before walking out with her into the lively holiday eve in Riverdale. 

FP had picked it up a few weeks before, somewhere in between putting up tree-toppers and letting her post up a donation center at the station for the Riverdale canned food drive. Somewhere between the homemade cookies and asking for her help to wrap presents for the kids. Somewhere mixed into the feeling like he’s belonged there all along and knowing that he isn’t just stepping into Hal’s old role. He’s not taking up the mantle of tasks another guy used to do for her, not with the way she smiles when he buys the candy canes she likes or the way she cuddles into his side after he lights the fireplace.

It’s all the things she’s had to ask for her entire life that he wants to do for the rest of his.

So maybe he isn’t a holiday kind of guy but he is an Alice Smith kind of guy and he walks hand in hand with her through Riverdale, looking at Christmas lights, stopping to make small talk with people who used to not give him a second glance after the first one wasn’t too nice anyway. They stroll through the winter wonderland theme in the town square and he lets her take as many pictures as she wants even though he thinks he always looks lousy in photos.

He wants it all to go right today.

There’s not a lot that he’s gotten right in his lifetime. Every fuck up hurts someone he loves more than it seems to hurt himself. His kids, his best friend, even his ex-wife for all the damage they seemed to mutually do to each other. _Alice_. 

He’ll never stop seeing her face when she asked him on a dark evening in an office he was still learning to call his own, _‘do you love me?’_

 _‘Doesn’t matter now,’_ he had said like an idiot, as if she wasn’t the piece that always mattered for the longest part of his life.

He has it all planned out now though.

Or mostly planned out.

He has the ring and he has a few words written on a piece of paper so that he can remember all the things he wants to tell her when the moment comes. The kids will be home by that point, all of them, even Charles. He debated on waiting until they were alone but he figures in a way, it was all of them together that brought Alice back to him. Brought him back to himself.

They’re walking through the square, looking at the Christmas lights and sharing stories of Christmases past, mostly good ones and mostly from Alice, when FP spots Hiram and Hermione off in the distance, their mouths moving but neither of them looking at the other while they talk. If they keep walking like they’re going, they’ll meet up somewhere near the inflatable Frosty the Snowman and Santa on a motorcycle with Rudolph in a sidecar. His jaw clenches, squeezing her hand in his. He could make it through this. Today is for Alice and he won’t let anything Hiram Lodge says get to him enough to ruin what’s been working damn well so far.

 _Fuck it_.

He stops them in their tracks, grabs Alice’s hand and starts tugging her off in a different direction.

“FP?” She looks at him, cocking her head and lilting his name on her tongue in that way he likes. She looks around for the source of his discomfort and realization dawns quickly.

“FP, why are we hiding from the Lodges?” Alice rolls her eyes, laughing at him but going along anyway. Together they stumble out of sight of the main path. They used to do this in high school but with hallways and empty closets instead of trees. FP doesn’t care either way, then or now, so long as Alice is the one that’s with him.

“I’m not hiding.” He stops when he’s confident about the distance between them and the open walkway. He catches his breath only to lose it again, staring at her surrounded by trees with fresh snow starting to fall around her. He reaches up to brush the snow out of her hair, letting his thumb linger, softly tracing her cheekbone. Alice shivers. “I don’t want to ruin a good day by pretending I don’t want to knock Hiram’s lights out.”

“You sure that's all it is?” She angles up to him on her tiptoes, running her fingers on his chest.

He shrugs, leaning down to kiss her. “I’ve also learned to make the best of a bad situation.”

FP kisses her and she kisses him back and for a few minutes the world get a little warmer there among the trees. Her back pressed against the rough bark and FP’s lips on hers, the little scratch of his beard sending sparks down her spine. He can taste her lip balm and marvels at the softness as they slide together, teasing the line of appropriate with the muffled sounds between them. When they pull apart, he wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling just a little bit like a teenager again with her. She bites her bottom lip, swollen and red, and the sight goes right to the heart of him.

“Cold?”

Alice shrugs but the fire in her eyes doesn’t stop burning for a second. Her fingers are still dancing on his chest, burning him up through the layers that cover him. “I could be warmer.”

FP wants to lean in kiss that serpent’s mouth again but the sun’s going down and the kids should be home soon. Every memory for Alice Smith is made better when her family’s there so he wants this to be the best. FP shrugs out of his jacket, feeling the cold whip at him through his flannel and undershirt.

“FP, no. You’ll get a cold.” Alice immediately fights the jacket as he drapes it over her shoulders. He doesn’t get to wear it as much as he likes now that he’s trying to balance his life as lawman and gang leader. And there’s not a lot of occasion for Alice to match it to her outfits but it takes his breath away every time it falls over her, too big and engulfing her perfectly, screaming out that the woman inside it is _his Alice_. 

“You can warm me up when we get home.”

He doesn’t intentionally smile at her any kind of way, not like she insists he does. Not how she swears he does when he’s trying to sweet talk her or tease her into staying in bed a little bit longer. It’s just how he smiles at her _because_ of her. He must be doing it now because her cheeks are turning pink and there she goes again biting that bottom lip. Her smirk curls like the devil, devious and perfect.

FP reaches out his hand to her. “Let’s go home.”

It feels so good that home is the same place for both of them.

He tries not to think about how the night is drawing to an end and soon he’ll have to reach the apex of his plan. The sharp Christmas Eve wind whips around his shirt and he tells himself it’s the drop in temperature that makes his hands shake. Alice glances at him and starts to take off his jacket but he puts an arm around her shoulders, urging her to keep it on.

“Call it my Christmas present.” He insists with a wink that he’s not sure comes out as smooth as he likes given the chatter in his teeth. She rolls her eyes and laughs at him. She makes a joke about a different kind of present she had in mind and he tugs her closer, swearing she’ll be the death of him before they can make it back to the house. He feels decidedly warmer though and hopes it can last him the rest of the walk. They’re nearing the house now and he can see her white icicle lights beckoning them home just off in the distance.

Maybe they’ll even have time to light the fireplace and revisit all the places he hung the mistletoe in the house before the kids arrive.

FP is ready to sprint the rest of the way when Alice stops, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Betty’s name pops up on the screen. She gestures for him to go ahead of her which he doesn’t like at all but after several quiet, aggressive hand gestures, he relents and she steps away to answer her daughter’s call. If the temperature were a little warmer, he would wait it out. Betty, Jug, and Jellybean are all together after all. Maybe if Betty’s calling there’s something he should know. Disaster is known to follow them if the kids don’t create it themselves.

But as it stands, all his extremities are feeling the chill creep a little closer than he would like so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he goes ahead to light the fireplace. He’ll start the fire and then come back out to walk her the small distance left. Sure.

He grabs a few logs from the porch and feels the immediate relief deep in his bones at the temperature-controlled house. Age creeps up on him in these unsuspecting moments, reminding him of how many years exactly have passed since he was a teenager ripping around the town, trying anything to avoid going home. Same girl on his arm even then, same girl walking around town with him, going back to the same southside of town.

FP likes it better now, with his back aching as he bends down on his tired knees to start the fire, both of them in the same house, making their own traditions. A lot of hers and a little bit of his. He likes her holiday lights in every room and he likes that she puts up a little more green than red around the house just for him. 

The doorknob twisting pulls him out of his daydreaming, away from the now steady fire. He stands with no small amount of groaning and turns to meet her.

Alice stands in the doorway, the tiny black jewelry box in her hand, and stares at him.

Shit.

His jacket. The ring that was in his jacket and is now in her hand.

Alice is staring at the box with the lid still closed. FP is lost trying to decide what to do and wishing he could read her mind. He wishes she would say something. She _always_ says something. It’s a small part of the big whole of why he loves her. But she simply stares at it, eyes drawn to its dimensions in her palm, both knowing what it is and pretending like hell that she doesn’t.

His stomach drops.

He steps forward and she looks up at him, like she’s finally realized that he’s in the room with her and the ring that she has yet to allow herself to see is becoming something real. Her voice is shaky when she says his name. Fearful in a way that makes his chest ache. “FP?”

There’s a lot of things about Alice that he has to remind himself of when she’s staring at the ring box, terrified and nervous, waiting on him to either make a move or make an excuse. He swallows it down, hoping that maybe she’s not so much afraid of him asking as she is still afraid from the remnants of her marriage to Hal. FP likes to think he knows her well enough to make that call, that their way of knowing each other in a way that no one else can ever understand is telling him the truth right now. Don’t turn back. Don’t give up.

God, he hopes he’s right.

FP does the only thing he can do, stepping forward with each word, meeting her in the entryway. He traces his finger along the lid, familiar with the shape and the weight of the box that’s been burning a whole in sock drawer for weeks. He looks at her and she watches him speak, willing the words to break through the fog of disbelief that’s taken over her.

“You don’t have to answer right away. I know this isn’t either of our first times being where we are right now but…I would like for it to be our last.” FP takes the box from her. There’s a tiny gasp that breaks from her when their hands touch again, when he opens it and there it is. It’s not much but something about its simplicity called her name when he was looking through the rows and rows of pretty stones and gaudy bands. He wished he could give her something better but somehow suspects that’s not what she truly wants.

She doesn’t say anything, staring up at him, and he keeps talking, letting his heart pour through his lips in a holiday stream of dumb hope and luck that he’ll stumble on the right words.

“You can keep your name. I know you worked hard to get your career back after—” He waves his hand in the air, shaking his head and trying to get himself back in this moment and away from the past. “I don’t want to take away from that.” He hates himself for the awkward little laugh at his own expense but fuck, his heart is hammering in his chest, one beat away from bursting, and it feels like Alice might never speak again with how she’s looking at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

FP takes her hands in his, feeling the little jewelry box between their palms.

“I know you’ve had a lot of broken promises and I know more than a fair share of those came from me but I swear, Alice, I won’t let you down this time. I’m done letting you down. I just want you. You can keep your name and whatever else you want. Just give me the rest. I think maybe that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I wanna make every day like Christmas for you.”

And then, because he figures he could at least get one part of this right, FP gets down on those same tired knees and holds the simple ring with the simple stone up to her. “Will y—”

_“Yes.”_

It comes out so fast he’s sure that maybe his hearing is going too right along with his knees and his back and his mind that thinks she just said –

 _“Yes.”_ She repeats herself, sniffling and nodding her head and pulling him up to her, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the life out of him for the umpteenth time that day.

 _Yes_ , his mind reels. It’s Christmas Eve, the fire’s going, and she said _yes_.

The weight in his stomach evaporates when she smiles at him. Christmas comes early and he knows there won't be any gifts under the tree as good as this one. One arm around her, holding her close while every fiber of her being is pressed to him, her lips everywhere and happy little sounds escaping in the in-between moments. There's a flurry of _I love you's_ and echoes of their names. He wants to really hold her, embrace her with both arms wrapped around her but the ring is still trapped in his hand between them, caught in the rush of desperately needing to kiss her. 

“You gotta let me put the ring on your finger, Alice.” FP mumbles, smiling against her lips with his fingers clutching the ring so he doesn’t drop it between them. She doesn’t. She doesn’t stop kissing him and doesn’t take her fingers from the hair at the base of his skull. She kisses him and kisses him and her back is against the door and he’s holding her there so long he actually does drop the damned ring and they still don’t stop for a few kisses more. Finally, he pulls away, picking up the ring and slipping it on her finger before she tugs him back to her by the collar of his flannel.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas to FP & Alice and FP/Alice only.


End file.
